Work Text:
Grace makes sure she’s the first one Emily sees after she wakes up.
Two days after the helicopter took her from Raccoon City to a safe hotel, where she was being treated for severe injuries on her person as well as psychological trauma, Grace got the call that they had found Emily in the debris.
She was described as weak but hanging on, a lone silver in a sea of blood and monsters.
Grace had wept so hard that she felt like she could crack her chest open, worrying the BSAA agents standing guard at her door.
Accommodations were swiftly made, being an FBI agent still somewhat has its perks, and soon enough, Grace is being transported to where they're treating Emily.
When asked, the escorting agent explains that this is another one of BSAA’s headquarters, mainly used as a hospital for recovering witnesses in cases of severe trauma.
It’s located in a remote place somewhere in the world, and apparently is so secret that Grace can’t make a simple phone call without going through at least two levels of clearance.
At long last, Grace manages to contact her boss, Director Nathan Dempsy of the FBI, and tells him she’s still alive and well.
“Fucking hell, Grace. You were all over the news. Scared half the team to death. You even got the newbie to come out of her cave for once.”
The sheer relief in his voice makes Grace want to tear up too, but she shoves them back down where she belongs.
Everyone knows FBI is a boy’s club, and many times in her career Grace has felt that sentiment was truer than one can realize.
But work is the only family she’s got left, and Grace has given her blood, sweat, and tears for the bureau, in the hopes of atoning for her biggest sin.
Leading her mother to her death.
She never expects anything in return, but every once in a while, Grace’ll be made to feel like she has a place there, like she belongs somewhere, and the novelty of camaraderie still hasn’t run out.
After everything she just went through, Grace thinks she’ll hang onto that feeling for as long as she can.
“Still kicking, chief. You can’t get rid of me that easily.”
“Don’t even joke,” Dempsy grumbles, almost like a disgruntled dad, and Grace melts into herself. “Assuming you can’t tell me where you are, do you know when they’re letting you out?”
Her primary doctor has mentioned something about physical therapy and further observation to make sure she doesn’t carry any disease from being exposed and in close contact with so many harmful biochemicals, but other than that, Grace is hopeful she’ll get to go home to her beloved apartment soon.
Fuck, she misses her couch.
“I’ll keep you posted, sir.” Dempsey sighs like he’s been expecting it. “Actually, sir, since we’re already on topic, can I ask you a favor?”
Thanks to Director Dempsy, forging the necessary papers and getting custody of Emily is going to be lightwork.
That’s one burden off of Grace’s shoulder, and she’s so relieved she almost falls asleep right then and there on the floor of her hotel room.
Fast forward to present day, Grace is being escorted to the treatment center where Emily is finally cleared for visitors.
“She's going to have to stay for further observations,” Grace hears the doctor say as they walk down the hall, the rhythmic clomp clomp of their shoes the only sound around. “But her every vital looks normal so far.”
“That's good to hear.” Grace smiles to show her joy and her gratitude. “Thank you, doc. For taking good care of her.”
Once the door opens, Gracie feels her chest caving in on itself.
The sight of Emily, sweet, little Emily, who so selflessly helped save Grace’s life, lying so helplessly in a pristine white hospital bed, looking so small, nearly sends Grace into hysterics.
“Oh sweetheart,” she murmurs, heartbroken and so, so guilty. “I’m here.”
Emily doesn’t move, sleeping soundly with her back turned. Grace approaches, quietly, and kneels down by Emily’s bedside.
She can still hear it, Leon’s gun firing bullet after bullet inside Emily’s tiny body. She can still hear it, the sound of her own voice tearing herself apart trying to get him to stop. Worst of all, she can still hear her cry.
Emily, crying out in pain. Emily, falling on her back. Emily, taking her last breath. As alone in death as she was when Grace first found her in that cell.
Grace remembers what Zeno showed her. How these girls were made in her image for a destiny she was supposed to fulfill.
It’s hard not to remember that everything that happened to these girls was all her fault.
“I’m sorry,” Grace whispers, tears silently running down her cheek. “I tried. I swear I tried. But I couldn’t… I couldn’t save you… I’m so sorry I didn’t save you.”
Suddenly it’s no longer Emily in that bed. It’s her mom, hair as blonde as wheat and a heart just as golden.
For a woman that didn’t have Grace biologically, they look dramatically alike, and now Grace has to truly face the simple fact that every day she’s going to look into the mirror and watch her own mother stare back at her.
Because she’s dead.
By Grace’s design. Of Grace’s fault.
Her mom is dead because she was kind enough to take Grace in as a lost infant from Dr. Spencer.
Her mom is dead because she was patient enough to lead Grace through a dark hotel.
Her mom is dead because of her.
It’s all her fault.
“I’m sorry,” Grace repeats. She can’t breathe through the tears. “I’m so sorry…”
“Grace? Is that you?”
Glass shatters inside Grace’s head, the sharp edges digging into her flesh as she stares into moon eyes that widen in recognition and childish hope.
“Grace?” Emily tries again, lifting the blanket off her body. “I… I heard you. Are you here?”
Every fiber inside Grace snaps to instinctive attention when Emily reaches for her with a hand, small and tiny and in desperate need of someone to love her and protect her.
Just like her mother once did for her.
“Hey,” Grace calls, a hand reaching inside her throat and squeezing when Emily visibly lights up. “Hi. I’m here, Emily.”
Grace tentatively touches fingertips, and is immediately pounced upon. She laughs as Emily nearly plows her backwards, tiny arms wrapped tightly around her neck like a python.
“You're here…” Little sniffles pierce her ears and her heart. “You're really here.”
A sob breaks out, and she squeezes her little girl tight.
“I’m here.”
Grace is here, and she’s not going anywhere.